The Love Song of Dr Kerry Weaver - A collaboration poem
by gogirrrr
Summary: This is a reworking of "The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock by T.S. Eliot. (for the original version of Eliot's poem: ). This was written collaboratively by myself, Shannon and "SonnyChibaGirl" We chose not to rewrite the entire poem because well… we got a bit distracted. This was originally written in May 2001 and published on FF sites now long gone.


CATEGORY: ER f/f Slash, high-brow poetry style

SPOILERS: "Witch Hunt", nothing after

RATING: NC-17 (maybe?).

DISCLAIMER: All "ER" characters and institutions are the property of Warner Bros., ConstantC Productions and Amblin Television. Blah, blah, blah.

AUTHORS' NOTES: Thank you to SPRING for suggesting this project to us.

DEDICATION: ghaliya, graysails, teresa_Roanoke, wigbee: thank you for being the fabulous pornstars that you are.

* * *

THE LOVE SONG OF DR. KERRY WEAVER

Let us go then, you and I,  
Where damp desire meets the eye  
Like a heroine told in a fable;  
Let us go, through warmed pink sheets,  
And groaning entreats  
Of restless nights in city hospitals  
And gay friendly bistros and exes from hell  
Sheets that twist like a life argument  
Against queer sentiment

To lead you to an overwhelming question…  
Oh, do not ask, "Am I gay?"  
Let us go and make our retreat.

In the bathroom, Kim combs and blows  
Teasing her comely new Sappho.

The lavender fog that rubs its back upon the pain  
The lavender smoke that rubs its fingers upon my pain  
Licked its tongue into the corners of the loneliness.  
Lingered upon the desire so long uncaressed.  
Let fall upon my breasts her curly mane.  
Lips on my skin, I felt a greeting deep  
And seeing that it was her soft thigh,  
Clutched once about her hip, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time  
For the lavender smoke that glides along the hall,  
Rubbing her breast upon my inner shame;  
There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a speech to give to the faces that I meet;  
There will be time to give and take,  
And time for the coming out  
That hushes whispered questions in my wake;  
Time for you and time for me.  
And time yet for a hundred indiscretions,  
And for a hundred kisses and Kim-obsessions,  
Before this, I have never felt so free.

In the bathroom Kim combs and blows  
Teasing her comely new Sappho.

And indeed there will be time  
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I care?"  
Time to turn back to my prior life,  
With a bald spot in the middle of my care-  
[Romano will say: "How Kerry is growing weak!"]  
My morning regret, my ire mounting though I am awkward and meek  
My mea culpa true and sincere, knowing the havoc this will wreak  
[Malucci will say: "But how I wish I could peek]  
Do I dare  
Break the rules?  
In a minute there is time  
For indiscretions and Kim obsessions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:  
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,  
I have measured out my life with ER reports;  
I know the voices dying with a dying fall  
Beneath the yelling from a trauma room.  
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all-  
The eyes that fix you into an outsider,  
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,  
When I am pinned and wriggling down the hall,  
Then how should I begin  
To spit out all the straight-think of my days and ways?  
And how should I presume?

And I have known all the questions already, known them all-  
Questions that are loaded and that taunt and dare  
[But in the candlelight, I am caught in her long hair!]  
Is it perfume from her black pants  
That makes me so entranced?  
Questions that twist inside my head, or wrap around my heart  
And should I then be out?  
And how should I begin?

. . . . . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk to 305  
And watched the light burn from the foyer  
On a limping outsider in borrowed blouses, longing for her?. . . .

I should have been a pair of porn hands  
Thrusting between the lower lips of her passion pleas.

In the afternoon, the evening, she screams so loudly!  
Caressing her with long fingers  
Inhaling… exhaling… she shivers  
Stretched out on the floor, it's just her and me  
Before this I have never felt so free.  
Have I the strength to force myself out of this crisis?  
But though I have cried and yearned, cried and wanted  
Though I have seen my heart [grown sadly alone] brought in upon a platter  
I am no saint – why should these questions matter  
I have seen the moment of wanting her grow  
And I have heard the eternal Sappho whisper in my ear, and blow  
And in short, I was overwhelmed.

And would it have been worth it, after all  
After the kissing, fingering and making love along the sea  
Among the gossip, among some talk of you and me  
Would it have been worth while  
To have finished you off with a smile  
To have people judge me through ignorant eyes  
To bring me back to the overwhelming question,  
To say: "I am Joan of Arc, reborn unto a new life  
Come back to proclaim, I have toured all the whys" -  
If Kim, sending me off with a coffee mug,  
Should say: "I Don't Know, Kerry. I have enough friends.  
This too shall pass."

And would it have been worth it, after all,  
Would it have been worth while,

After the laughter and the discoveries and the talks of our future

After wineglasses, after the twin set of blouses ripped, laying on the floor  
All this, and so much more? -  
It is impossible to say just what I mean!  
But as the bright rainbow threw its demands on my movie screen:  
Would it have been worth while  
If Kim, waiting for my support, or some sign of my love  
And turning towards me before stepping in the elevator, should say:

"I'm not asking anything of you,  
Go back to your life, Kerry."


End file.
